The Gardener (Part 14)

[Reeza]

Author's Note: I appreciate all of your supportive comments and Thank Yous. They really do inspire me and keep me motivated.

As I commented in the previous thread, there will be more muscle growth in this story, but it has to wait until Adam and Sam are both ready for it. Also, it has to be practical. Sam already lost a job because of his remarkable growth. I can't turn him into a public spectacle.

Meanwhile, I'm just trying to get their pants off! Let's see if it happens today.


Previously on The Gardener . . . Adam had lunch with his morally challenged coworker, Henry; we met Adam's hypocritical boss, Mr. Zipinski, who is trying to get rid of Donna; and Sam demonstrated that Henry can't possibly compete with him.


The Gardener
by Reeza

Parts 1 and 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Part 10 : Part 11 : Part 12 : Part 13

Part 14

I had a list of things to get done on Saturday while Sam was at work, but the first thing I was confronted with as I got dressed for the day was my nearly empty drawers and closet. I knew there must be a small mountain of dirty clothes at the bottom of the laundry chute that I had been neglecting for quite a while. When I went to the basement to face the task, I saw the changes Sam had made during the few weeks since I had been down there.

First I noticed that it was clean. The layer of dust that had settled on everything was gone. My father's tools were neatly organized and there was open space on the work bench where projects could be done. I could see that Sam had been working on something because there were scraps of wood and bits of hardware there.

The area of the basement that I used to call the junkyard had been cleared out to make space for Sam's weight lifting equipment. There was a rubbery mat on the floor with the bench in the middle and an array of weights on bars and racks. It reminded me of the weight room at my high school. I didn't use it much myself, but I liked to pass by whenever possible to glance at the guys who used it all the time. The memory of it gave me a chubby.

Above my head I saw the project Sam must have been working on. He had fashioned a pull up bar out of a heavy pipe from my father's scrap pile and attached it to the ceiling joists. I hadn't done a pull up in years, but I was pretty good at them when I was younger. I reached up toward the bar. It was too high to reach without jumping, so I sprang up and grabbed the pipe on the first try. I strained to pull myself up until my eyes were even with the bar, then I let myself down and dropped to the floor.

It bothered me that it was so difficult, but it made me want to do better. I remembered that chin ups were easier, so I jumped up and grabbed the bar with my palms facing me. I was pleased to discover that I could get my chin above the bar three times in a row before I had to stop. The burning sensation in my upper torso reminded me what it felt like to exercise my muscles. I had forgotten that I liked that feeling as much as I liked running.

I decided to do some push ups while I was at it. I did those once in a while before I went running, if I thought about it. I got down on the mat and was able to do twenty, but I wasn't sure whether my form was good. I would have to ask Sam to help me with that. While I was on the floor, I went ahead to sit ups. I had to rest after twenty, then I did ten more. That sucks! I could remember doing fifty, easily, when I was in better shape. No wonder my belly is soft. I vowed to start doing calisthenics every day, especially sit ups.

I stood up and looked at the various weights. The number of plates that were loaded on the bars was intimidating, but I was less interested in using them myself than I was in watching Sam use them. Considering how easily he lifted me the night before, I knew he could lift a great deal more than my weight. Off to one side was the old radiator he chose to keep. It had to weigh two or three times as much as me, and I had seen him pick it up without much effort. Sam wasn't naturally inclined to show off his strength, but I was pretty sure he would get more comfortable with it when he knew how much it turned me on. I had a lot to look forward to.

I remembered why I had come to the basement in the first place and went to the laundry chute to sort my clothes. I put the first load in the washer and went upstairs to eat a healthy breakfast. I made up my mind that if I needed to gain weight, I would do it right and try to gain muscle instead of fat. I was never going to be big and muscular, but I knew I could have a more athletic body if I made the effort. I did some quick research on the internet and made a grocery list for myself. Sam could afford to keep stuffing himself with doughnuts and ice cream, but the meals I ate were going to be healthier.

There was work to do in the garden. The warm June weather had everything growing like crazy, and the flowering plants were at their peak, most of them covered with blooms. I strapped on my iPod, stuck the buds in my ears and started shuffling all of the Indigo Girls' albums. I don't care what anyone says - the Indigo Girls are awesome. I went to work trimming plants, clipping off the faded blooms, and doing the general cleanup that is constantly required during the Summer months.

While I was dead heading the columbines and developing a new appreciation for the lyrics of 'Love Will Come to You', I was startled to see someone standing next to me. I jumped up and pulled out an ear bud. Without thinking, I barked, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

The woman standing there jumped back and replied, "I was trying to get your attention, but you couldn't hear me!" I had never seen her before. She was around my age, had a stiff hairdo, and smelled like money.

"I'm sorry . . . you startled me. Can I help you?"

She smiled. "I understand completely. You must be listening to Rush."

Rush? The 70's rock band? What the . . . ?

"I'm Helen Van Wootten, president of the Eden Place Neighborhood Association. I'm just going around to all the houses in the neighborhood to invite people to our next meeting."

I pulled out the other ear bud because I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. What neighborhood association?

"I've been wondering who lives in this lovely house." She looked around at all the plants and shrubs displaying their huge blooms. "These flowers are magnificent! Your wife must have a green thumb."

"I'm sorry, what organization did you say you're with?"

"The Eden Place Neighborhood Association." She handed me a flier. "We're working to make the neighborhood a safer place to raise our children. Is your wife at home?"

I was irritated. "No. I've never heard of this neighborhood association. When did this get started?"

"Well, we are a young organization. When my husband and I moved to Eden Place last Fall and discovered there was no neighborhood association, I told him that I had my work cut out for me! I was president of the association we had back in Denver, so I thought, 'Who is better suited to this task than you are, Helen?" She smiled as if she'd said something amusing.

I didn't like her. "This is a safe neighborhood. I don't see the need for an organization, and I'm not much of a joiner anyway, so . . ."

"We can never be too careful when it comes to our children. Do you and your wife have any . . ."

"No, I don't have a wife, so why don't you . . ."

"Who do you hire to plant these flower beds?"

I hated her. "I did it. They're mine. I'm the gardener." I wasn't feeling neighborly.

"Oh." She looked surprised. "A man who enjoys flower gardening? I can't say that I've ever . . . that's very . . . modern."

What century are you from, you pinch-faced weasel woman?! I tried to make her head explode with my hostile thoughts, but she was oblivious.

"I noticed a young man mowing the lawn here the other day and thought he must be your hired help. We could use a good handyman if he's . . ."

"No. That's Sam. He lives here and he's not available. Now, if you don't mind . . ." Can't she tell that I hate her?

"I'm sorry. Did you say that young man lives with you?" She looked concerned.

My head was pounding. "He's my tenant. He rents the coach house. Not that it's any of your business."

"I see. I'm sorry if I offended you, but one of the reasons we need a neighborhood association is to identify potential threats to the safety of our children. I was simply concerned that there might be some . . . alternative lifestyle . . ."

I'm gonna cut the bitch. "No one here is a threat to your children. I don't even like children." I probably shouldn't have said that. "Look, I'm not interested in your organization and I'd like you to leave now." I was pointing at her with my pruning shears.

"Oh, dear!" She backed away from me. "I'm in the wrong place. Please don't hurt me!"

"What? I'm not gonna hurt you . . ." I realized I was gesturing with my shears and pointed them at the ground. "Just leave me alone, okay? I'm not interested."

"I'm going, I'm going!" She skittered away and headed toward Flora's house next door. I watched her scamper up the steps and ring the doorbell while giving me a fearful look. I put in my ear buds as Flora's housekeeper stuck her head out to look at me and invited the horrible woman into the house.

I think I handled that pretty well. I went back to my work.

A short while later, as I was kneeling over a clump of bergenias, I was startled once again by something poking me in the ribs. It was the tip of Flora's cane. I looked up and smiled, then removed the ear buds "Mrs. O' . . . I mean, Flora. Hello!"

She had a stern look on her face. "Adam, what did you say to that woman?"

"What? Nothing! I just told her I wasn't interested."

"Stand up, young man!" I obeyed. "Did you threaten her?"

"Uff! No! I . . . may have pointed my pruning sheers at her, but I wasn't threatening her."

"And did you tell her you don't like children?" I could tell she wasn't happy with me.

"Well . . . she caught me off guard . . . it wasn't the best choice of words, but . . ."

"Adam! In the space of five minutes you managed to make an enemy of someone who could turn half the neighborhood against you. Do you realize that?"

"I . . . all I did was . . . she was implying that I'm some kind of . . ."

"Have you no sense of social politics? How do you manage to conduct business in the world?"

"I'm not a . . . I've never been good at . . ." I sighed heavily, conceding defeat. "Okay, how bad is it?"

"It's not good, but you are fortunate that she fled to my house." Flora looked around. "Adam, why are there no chairs in your garden? It is customary to invite guests to sit down." She was annoyed.

"I'm sorry, let me get some chairs." I ran to the back porch and brought the two chairs from the table that was there, setting them in front of the flowerless peony that I got from Dave.

Flora sat down, adding one more remark about my lack of garden furniture. "Even cemeteries have benches here and there."

"You're right. Sam said the same thing. We need to go shopping. So, what did the weasel woman say about me?"

Flora's eyes brightened and I could tell she was suppressing a smile. "She did have small eyes. And she needs a new hairdresser."

"I know. Do you think that was a whole can of hairspray?"

She chuckled quietly. "Don't try to win me over with catty remarks. I'm very cross with you!"

"I can tell. I don't like it when you're cross."

"Then you should behave!" She shook her finger at me and smiled before continuing. "I disliked that woman as much as you did. Unlike you, however, I know how to charm horrible people to prevent them from giving me trouble. I won't even repeat the manipulative things I told her to make you seem more sympathetic."

"Yeah, I'd rather not know. Do you think she'll give me trouble?"

"She is a small-minded bigot. Of course she'll make trouble."

"But I haven't done anything wrong. What can she do to me?"

"Never underestimate the fear people have of things they don't understand. All she has to do is raise suspicion. Your sexual orientation will be her weapon."

"But nobody knows! We're not having sex in the street. We haven't even had sex yet."

"Adam . . . you are two handsome young men, living in a Victorian house, surrounded by spectacular flower gardens. Where is the camouflage?"

"C'mon! You make it sound so obvious . . . like a stereotypical . . . uh . . . huh . . . this is really gay, isn't it?"

"You have everything but the flag, my dear. Your flowers have been drawing attention for years, but your stunning young man has been the favorite topic of conversation among the ladies on this street for two months now."

"Dammit! I shouldn't have let him mow the lawn with his shirt off."

"Oh, Adam!" She laughed. "On the contrary! He should wear more revealing shorts."

"Flora!" I was genuinely shocked. "Really?"

"Trust me, honey. You could have learned a great deal from Mr. O'Neill. He was the most charming man who ever lived. All the ladies loved him, and none of them were fooled by the thin veneer of our marriage. No matter how much he flirted, they knew he posed no threat to them or their children. You could be charming, too, if we could get you to be less . . . abrasive."

"I . . . I don't . . ." I was speechless.

"Don't misunderstand me, dear. You're a lovely person, but you have been a curmudgeon lately."

"I know. I used to get along with people easily, but then I got used to shutting everyone out. Now I'm out of practice."

"All is not lost. I'll take charge of your rehabilitation, but you will need to meet the other neighbors eventually."

"I can do that. Not all at once, I hope. I appreciate your help."

"You are most welcome, dear. Now, when will I be meeting this extraordinary young man I keep hearing about?"

I agreed that Sam and I would join her for lunch on Wednesday. When she asked if we had any dietary restrictions, I considered telling her about Sam's appetite. I decided against it. It would probably embarrass him, and he could always eat more at home.

I thanked Flora again and walked her back to her house. On the way there she advised me . . . actually, she ordered me . . . to smile and wave at neighbors who passed by while I was working in the front yard. This would be the first step in the social rehabilitation she had planned for me. I guess it won't kill me.

As I finished up my work in the garden, I took another look at that frustrated peony, wondering what I could do to make it bloom the next year. I clipped off the underdeveloped buds that were turning black. It occurred to me that I would normally ask Dave for advice about something like this. I hadn't been to his nursery since the day I introduced him to Sam, then found out later that he had warned Sam to be careful with me. Why would he say that? But it hadn't kept Sam from trusting me. Maybe I should let it go. I was trying to be more optimistic about people, and Flora was encouraging me to be more open and friendly. Maybe that's what I need.

I decided to pay a visit to the nursery before heading to the grocery store. I could clear the air with Dave and see Sam working at his new job. I put another load of laundry in the washer, made a sandwich, and grabbed a banana. Pretty soon I was in my big pickup, tearing hunks out of my sandwich as I drove, and feeling butch. Just like a trucker, eating on the road to save time. My CD player queued up Pink's Greatest Hits. Like a gay accountant trucker. Eating turkey and Gruy?re with mango chutney on millet bread. In his big-ass truck!

When I arrived at the nursery I pulled into the far end of the parking lot and saw Sam at the other end loading some shrubs onto one of Dave's trucks. I decided to keep my distance and observe for a few minutes. A well dressed middle aged woman was overseeing his labor. I deduced that she was the customer who bought the shrubs. The way she was watching Sam bend and lift made me think she was appreciating his help in more ways than one. After all the plants were loaded, the woman went to her car and Sam got in the truck and followed her out of the parking lot. Apparently he was doing a home delivery.

I went into the main building to have a look at the exotic annuals. Before long, as always, Dave saw me and came over to greet me. "Adam! I was starting to think you gave up gardening! How the hell are you?" I started to reach out for a handshake, but Dave surprised me by pulling me into a rough, manly hug, pounding on my back with his open hands. This had never happened before. I forgot to respond to his question. "Were you mad at me or something? Why did you stop coming around?"

I wasn't expecting questions like that. Time to start lying. "I . . . I don't know . . . I was busy, and I didn't want Sam to think I was checking up on him, so . . ."

"Are you kidding? He'd love to see you here. Adam, the kid never shuts up about you. It would drive me fuckin' nuts if I didn't know you."

"Um . . . I . . ." Does Dave know about us?

"That guy is something else! Best employee I ever had. Most of these goddamn kids are too busy with their fuckin' cell phones to get any work done. I wanna ring their necks. But Sam comes in here and puts 'em all to shame. Now they're all trying to keep up with him. And the customers love him!" He nudged me with his elbow. "Especially the ladies."

"Yeah, I just saw him loading a truck for a woman who looked like she was gonna pounce on him like a cougar."

"I know who you mean. She's a cougar, alright, and one of my best customers. That broad shits money, and I plan to pick up as much of it as I can. She used to come after me like that, but the kid stole my mojo. Now he gets the big tips instead of me."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What does he have to do for those tips?"

"Oh, it's not what you're thinking. Hell no! Even if he was interested, I wouldn't allow it. The first rule I tell my employees is, 'Don't fuck the customers.' But . . . maybe he'll take off his shirt while he's planting those shrubs and he'll get a c-note for a tip. If he keeps the shirt on, he'll get a fifty. I tell ya, a guy who looks like him gets ten just for smiling. He knows how to work it. Just the way I taught him." Dave winked at me.

That's an interesting business model. I didn't know whether to feel proud of Sam, or appalled by the conversation. "You really want to encourage that?"

"Adam, it's gonna happen whether I encourage it or not. Thirty years ago when I started doing landscaping, I could see that the good looking guys got more jobs. The harder I hit the gym, the more money I made. How do you think I built this business? I was a fuckin' stud back in the day. It gave me an edge over the competition."

I remembered feeling some kind of attraction to Dave when I first started coming to his nursery years ago. He sold great plants, but he had something extra that made me want to talk to him. He always seemed glad to see me and treated me like I was his favorite customer. He still did. Does he treat everyone that way? I joked with him. "I bet you're still the favorite with the older women, Dave."

He snorted. "Yeah, but they get stingy once they're on social security. My old ass is lucky to draw a five dollar tip these days. Good thing I own the place. But you, kiddo . . . you woulda done well if you came to work for me when I offered you a job. You coulda paid for college with those tips. I was disappointed when you turned me down."

I was feeling a little uncomfortable. Of course I don't take compliments very well, and I'm sure I was blushing. "I'm sorry, Dave. I did appreciate the offer. I hope I made up for it by introducing you to Sam."

"He's great, and he wants to learn the business, so I'm happy to teach him. He was lucky to snag you, too. I didn't think you'd go for a younger guy, but it seems to be agreeing with you. I know he's happy."

I was definitely blushing now. I can't believe he knows about us! This is so embarrassing. I struggled to say something coherent. "I didn't . . . I wasn't sure if you . . . I'm not used to talking to people about this."

"I get it. Don't worry about it."

"But . . . so . . . you're okay with this? You don't think there's something wrong about it?"

"Wrong? Hell, no. I think it's beautiful. I'm real happy for you. I was worried about you after your parents . . ." He paused and looked down. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm real happy for you." He pounded me on the back a couple of times, as if I was the one getting choked up. Maybe I was, a little. "I better get back to work before everything falls apart on me. These goddamn kids need to be watched. It was great to see you, Adam. Don't be a stranger!"

"I won't. I'm glad I stopped by." He started to walk away. "Tell Sam I was here, okay?"

"You bet. And take a look at those New Guinea impatiens. They're the best in town, and the price is good!" He was always a salesman.

I decided to buy some of the impatiens in hanging baskets for the front porch. Then I picked up a couple of potted ferns for the living room, as Sam had suggested, to bring some life into the house. After checking out, I headed to the grocery store where I bought enough food for a large family. By the time I got home, unloaded everything and put it all away, it was late afternoon.

I continued doing my laundry, went through the house vacuuming and dusting, cleaned the bathrooms, and mopped the kitchen floor. It was difficult to maintain a large house by myself. I had more time for it when I wasn't cooking a big meal every day and making out with Sam every night. But I wasn't going to give up either of those things, no matter how dirty the house was. Just thinking about Sam's arrival every evening made my day pass more quickly.

When I was finished cleaning, I got started on dinner. I was planning to take a shower before he got home, but time slipped away and the next thing I knew, Sam was walking in the door. He called out, "Adam, I'm home!"

It made me smile. "Hello, dear! I'll get you your slippers and a glass of scotch." I turned to greet him, but he had a puzzled look.

"Scotch? You know I don't drink." He pulled me into a hug.

"It's a joke. You know . . . the wife brings a drink and slippers when her husband gets home."

"I don't wear slippers." He still looked confused.

"I know you don't. I'm imitating June Cleaver."

He went to get himself a glass of water. "Who's she?"

"From 'Leave It To Beaver?'" Is he too young?

"Leave it to what? What are you talking about?"

I was dumbfounded. "You've never heard of 'Leave It To Beaver?' The old TV show?"

"No, we didn't have a TV on the farm. My parents thought it was a tool of the devil."

That possibility had not occurred to me, and it took me a minute to recover. How can I explain 'Leave It To Beaver?' "It doesn't matter. Maybe I'll show it to you some time."

"Is it about beavers?"

"No, forget it. It's silly. You look kind of tired."

"No, I'm just hungry and dirty. I should take a shower before we eat."

"I was gonna do that, too, but I ran out of time."

He smiled. "Maybe we should take a shower together." He drained the last of the water from his glass while I watched his biceps. I knew he was kidding, but it sounded good to me.

I decided to throw it out there. "Could we?" I looked up at him with my best puppy dog eyes.

He probably thought I was kidding, too. As it dawned on him that I was serious, one side of his mouth curled up and his face flushed red. "Isn't it a little too soon for that? I thought we were gonna wait."

"I'm not talking about sex, but we could be naked together, couldn't we? I'd love to see you naked, Sam."

"I wanna see you, too, but . . . I'm pretty sure I would bust a nut."

"I would, too. But if we're in the shower . . . wouldn't that be okay?"

He put his hand over the front of his shorts. "I'm already getting hard. Yeah, that would be okay, but . . . are you sure you're ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. I can't let my anxiety stop me from doing things. Do you feel ready?"

"I'm ready to see you naked, for sure. I guess I'm a little nervous about being naked in front of you."

"Are you kidding? If I looked like you, I would never wear clothes."

"Adam! Y'know, sometimes . . ." He stopped and looked down.

"What? Tell me."

He hesitated, but he continued. "Sometimes you . . . kind of . . . dismiss my feelings. Like nothing could ever hurt me. I'm not used to looking like this. I worry about what you think of me . . . maybe too much. You know you can hurt my feelings, right?"

"I'm sorry, did I say something that hurt you?"

"No, I'm just saying . . . you could. I really try to be careful with you because I know you're insecure about certain things. I just hope you're doing the same for me." It was so difficult for him to say this, he couldn't look at me.

Once again I had to be reminded that, despite his appearance, Sam was a vulnerable young man. It made him even more beautiful. I stroked the smooth skin on the underside of his forearm. "You're absolutely right. I want you to always tell me if I'm being insensitive, okay? I need to be aware of that."

"Okay." He looked up. "I guess I am tired. And hungry. Big surprise, huh?"

"Dinner is almost ready. Why don't we just eat first?"

"Are you sure I don't smell bad? I was really sweating today."

"Lemme check." I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his polo shirt. "Y'know, I can understand why you would be worried about that, but you don't smell bad. I said this before, but you smell surprisingly good, and I'm not one of those guys who's into body odor." I pulled away from him and went back to preparing dinner. "I wonder if it's just me, or if you smell that good to other people."

"I'm not gonna take a poll." He opened the refrigerator and I knew what he was looking for. He grabbed the can of spray cheese. Good thing I bought a few more cans. "By the way, Dave said you stopped to visit. That was nice. You really made his day." He sprayed a big blob of cheese onto his tongue.

"Yeah, well . . . I was glad we had a chance to talk. I was caught off guard, though. I didn't realize you told him about our relationship."

"I didn't tell him. He just knew."

"Whataya mean?"

"He knew right away, that day when you introduced me to him. That's why he came over to talk to me."

"You mean when he warned you about me? I still don't understand that."

"Oh my God, Adam! Are you still thinking about that?"

"Well . . . yeah."

"He didn't warn me about you. He warned me to be careful with you. He threatened me."

"What?"

"He said, 'I'm glad you and Adam are friends, but be careful with him.'" He was impersonating Dave's way of talking. "'Because if you hurt him, I'll come after you! I don't care how big you are, I'll take you down! Do you understand me?'"

I was flabbergasted. "Why didn't you tell me that part? All this time I've been thinking . . ."

"I tried to tell you! You weren't listening! You got so defensive right away . . ."

Oh yeah. I did. That was the first time Sam got angry with me. "Okay, okay . . . you're right, I was defensive. That was before I realized we were . . . wait a minute . . . Dave knew we were in a relationship before I knew?"

"Yep."

"God dammit!" #!%&+@^$*<!!!!! I was cursing like a sailor in my head.

Sam came up behind me and put an arm around my chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. "What difference does it make now? The most important thing is that Dave cares that much about you. He had your back. Believe me, I didn't take his warning lightly, and I haven't forgotten it." He kissed my neck.

"But I don't get it. Why would he be so protective of me? I've known him for a long time, but it's not like we're close friends or anything."

Sam leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, causing the veins in his forearms to stand out from his tanned skin. "I don't know. I was wondering about that, too. Sometimes when he talks about you, it . . . no, I probably shouldn't say that."

"What?"

"No, never mind. You're gonna think I'm . . . never mind."

'I hate it when people do that! Just tell me, or it'll drive me crazy!"

"Alright! But I don't want you to think I'm all . . ."

"Spit it out!"

"It makes me jealous, okay? The way he talks about you makes me want to say . . . 'You can't talk about Adam that way. He's mine!' I don't know why I feel that way, but . . . it's just like when you were telling me about Henry."

"Oh, for God's sake! I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Lemme get this stuff out of the oven so we can eat."

"What can I do? Is the table set?"

"No, you can do that." He went to set the table while I pulled out a pan lined with lean pork tenderloins, and a large baking dish full of roasted red potatoes, baby carrots and pea pods. I transferred the meat to a platter and we took everything into the dining room and settled down to eat. We were both so focused on the food that we didn't continue our conversation for a while.

"This is great, Adam. I'm glad you're a good cook. I didn't have a chance to eat much for lunch."

"I saw you today at the nursery. You were loading shrubs on a truck for somebody."

"Oh, yeah. I had to plant all of those for her, too. That lady gets on my nerves."

"Really? Why is that?"

"I dunno. It's hard to explain."

"Did you take off your shirt while you were working for her?"

He looked like a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "How did you know about that?"

"Dave was telling me about her, and about how you get the biggest tips." His face turned so red I felt sorry for him. "It's okay, Sam. It doesn't bother me. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Oh . . . I . . . okay . . ." He went back to eating. It was rare for him to be rendered speechless.

I let it go for a while, but it didn't feel right. "Y'know, Sam, you don't have to do things like that if it makes you uncomfortable. You can keep your shirt on."

"I don't mind that. It's more comfortable to work with it off, and it keeps the shirt from getting ruined. I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of a hustler. It feels like I'm doing something wrong when they give me such big tips." He paused to take in a forkful of meat. "I suppose you're the wrong person to ask, but . . . am I really that special? She gave me a two hundred dollar tip today."

"Two hundred?" Holy fuck! "That is a big tip. But, I have to say, you are . . . special. I mean, you're very good looking. Well, more than that . . . I don't know how far you want me to go here . . . you'll probably think I'm exaggerating. You're scorching hot. Like a walking wet dream."

"Alright! Okay. Enough." He shifted in his chair. "You know I get a boner when you say things like that. I love that you're hot for me, but . . . doesn't it bother you when other people look at me that way?"

"Mmm, no. Not as long as they're just looking. And as long as they're women. You're not taking your shirt off for any guys, are you?"

He shrugged his wide shoulders with an ambiguous facial expression.

My blood pressure seemed to rise. "Seriously . . . you're not, are you?"

"Oh . . . who's jealous now?" He raised his eyebrows at me. "Don't worry. I'm just yanking your chain. Dave assigns us to the home deliveries and landscaping jobs. For some reason, he always sends one of the other guys out with the gay customers. My buddy, Greg, gets some of those. He's hot, but he's straight. He gets pretty good tips." He formed a mischievous smile. "Not as good as my tips, though. I don't even tell the others how much I get. They tease me enough as it is. Greg calls me 'stud muffin.'" Sam obviously enjoyed this.

"Huh. I'll have to meet Greg some time."

"Why?"

"Just . . . no reason . . . I'm just curious to meet your friends. Y'know . . . so I know who you're talking about when you talk about them. That's all."

"So, when am I gonna meet Donna?" He had a twinkle in his eye. "I could drop by your office some time."

Uh oh. "Umm . . . I'll have to think about that. Here . . . finish up these potatoes."

"Or what about your friend, Henry? I'd love to meet him." His eyes stopped twinkling.

I just ignored him. "Hey, I forgot to tell you . . . I scheduled our lunch with Flora for this coming Wednesday. She's dying to meet you."

"Sounds good. You didn't tell her about my appetite, did you?"

"No, I figured you wouldn't want me to."

"That's right. I eat like a normal person when I'm invited out."

"Do you have a swimming suit? She wants us to use the pool."

"Cool. Uh . . . I have one but I haven't worn it since I . . ."

"Became a stud muffin?"

He laughed. "Yeah . . . that. I don't know if it'll still fit. It's probably too tight. My waist isn't bigger, but . . . I think my ass is getting fat."

I raised one eyebrow. "I don't think that's fat."

"Well it sticks out pretty far. And my thighs are so much thicker I can hardly . . ."

"Okay, can we take that shower now? My dick is about to tear a hole in my . . ."

"Adam."

"Sam! What do you expect? You're describing everything I've been wanting to see . . ."

"I was talking about my swimming trunks!"

"Okay! Tell me more about your swimming trunks." I leaned forward. "How tight do you think they are? Will they hug your muscular thighs and make your butt look like a ripe peach?"

He squirmed. "Adam . . ."

"Will I be able to see any pubic hair, or just that gorgeous treasure trail that points to your big fat . . ."

"Stop! Alright? You win! We'll get naked!" He closed his eyes and started whispering, "Sarah Palin, Sarah Palin, she's killing kittens . . . gross!"

I smiled and used the same images to reduce my own erection. It felt good to gain the upper hand in this round. Sam usually took the lead when we made out, but I was feeling frisky after all that talk about hot, shirtless landscapers. I put the last of the meat and vegetables on Sam's plate. I should at least let him finish eating before I got his pants off.

He opened his eyes and went to work on his food once he had seen enough slaughtered kittens. Apparently it tamed his erection, but didn't spoil his appetite. He shook his head and spoke with his mouth full. "That woman really hates kittens."

As long as I was initiating things, I started unbuttoning my shirt while Sam ate. I did it slowly, in the most provocative way a self-conscious nerd like me could manage. I pulled the shirt off my shoulders and let it fall on my chair. He swallowed a half-chewed mouthful of food. "Are you in a hurry or something? I'm eating as fast as I can."

"Take your time. I'm just wondering what I have to do to get a big tip around here."

That made him smile. I could almost see wheels turning in his head as he shoved his hand into the pocket of his shorts to pull out some folded money. He fanned out four crisp fifty dollar bills and laid them on the table next to his plate. "Alright, why don't you show me what you think I did to get that two hundred dollar tip." He angled his chair away from the table so he could continue eating while looking at me.

That was unexpected, but I asked for it. It didn't take me long to get into it, though. I had seen enough porn videos about gardeners and pool boys to have some ideas. "Okay, I'd better start over." I stood up and put my shirt back on while trying to get into character.

"This should be good," he said sarcastically.

I started fanning myself with my hands. "Oh, Mrs. Smith . . . your beautiful garden is so hot! I feel like I'm going to faint. Do you mind if I take off my shirt? Oh, thank you! You're such a nice lady." I pretended to struggle with my sleeves. "Oh, darn! I can't get these sleeves over my big bulging biceps. Could you help me? They're sooo tight!" I held my arm out to Sam, inviting him to pull on my sleeve. "I should really stop working out so much." He had a crooked smile on his red face, but he went along with my act. He pulled one sleeve off, then I turned and let him pull the shirt off my other arm. I tossed it aside and took a step back.

I started running my hands over my torso. "Oh, that feels so much better, Mrs. Smith! I think I have some kind of medical condition, because people keep telling me my body is way too hot." Sam clamped one hand over his mouth. "What do you think, Mrs. Smith? Do you think my body is too hot? Could you touch me and tell me what you think?" I took hold of his wrist and pulled it away from his mouth, revealing a broad grin. I pressed his hand to my chest. "Oh, that feels so good! Move it around. Make sure you feel all of me. Maybe you should use both hands." Sam happily stroked my chest, pulling me closer. He ran his hands up and down my arms. I asked him, "So, what do you think? Am I too hot? Or am I just hot enough? I'd really like your opinion."

He looked me in the eyes. "You know, I think you are too hot." He reached for one of the bills next to his plate. "I'd like to give you fifty dollars to help with your medical bills." He carefully tucked one end of the fifty into the waistband of my shorts, giving me a bigger thrill than I expected. I wanted the rest of that money. Sam leaned forward and was about to kiss my chest, but I stepped back.

"Mrs. Smith! I wouldn't want to give you the wrong idea. I'm not that kind of guy! You don't want to get me fired, do you?" I put one fingertip in my mouth.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "No, of course not. But you'd better get back to work if you want to keep your job." He turned to his plate, stabbed a piece of pork, and shoved it in his mouth.

"You're right. I have a lot of heavy lifting and digging to do. I'd better stretch my muscles first so I don't hurt myself." I kicked off my sandals and started doing the stretches I normally did before running, but in an exaggerated, comically sexy way. "I hope you don't mind looking at my big sweaty muscles, Mrs. Smith. I know they're ugly, the way they bulge out all over the place." I flexed my arms and my chest, surprised to see that there actually were muscles there, however unimpressive. I wouldn't have done any of these things if I weren't putting on a comedy show. Taking myself less seriously made me bolder, and I could tell Sam was enjoying it.

He finished the last of his dinner and licked his lips. "I'm impressed! I didn't realize you were so flexible. That's gonna come in handy later." He crossed his arms and sat back to see what I would do next.

"Ouch!" I pretended to be in pain. "Oh, no! I think I have a cramp in my leg! Could you take a look at it?" I raised my foot and used it to push his knees to the side so his legs were spread apart. I planted my heel on the front edge of his chair seat and gently pushed my toes into his crotch. He grinned and squirmed, then leaned forward and put his hands on my leg. I said, "I think you need to massage it."

He squeezed my calf with one hand and stroked the hair on my shin with the other. "You have very nice legs." They were lean and muscled from all those years of running. "Where does it hurt?" He was playing along nicely.

"Farther up." Of course. He slid his hands over my knee to my lower thigh and started kneading the tissue. I liked it. I pulled up the hem of my shorts. "Higher, please. It hurts way up here." I pointed to a spot near my groin and smiled.

He scrunched his eyebrows together and gave me a hesitant look. "Are you sure it's way up there? That's pretty far up."

I nodded. "Oh, I'm sure, Mrs. Smith. And your smooth little hands feel sooo good on my big muscular thigh! I hope it's not too sweaty." I was really enjoying myself.

Sam shifted in his seat and my toes felt a growing firmness in his crotch, matching the growing amusement in his facial expression. "Alright, if that's where it hurts, let's see what I can do." He stroked the inside of my thigh with his fingertips, then slid them under the hem of my shorts. I moaned softly. I didn't have to pretend that it felt good because it really did. He pressed his fingers into my flesh and gently massaged the tender muscles. "How does that feel?"

"That feels good, Sa . . . Mrs. Smith." I almost broke character. I had to stay focused on my goal. "But I think I'm going to need physical therapy. That means more medical bills." I made a sad face.

"Oh, right. Of course." He removed one hand from my thigh and reached for another fifty dollar bill, tucking it a little farther into the front of my shorts than the first one. "That should take care of it."

I smiled. "You're very kind, but physical therapy is really expensive." I bit the tip of my forefinger.

He smiled skeptically. "Is it? Really?"

"Well, I need a big, strong physical therapist to work on my big muscles. That costs more." I wriggled my toes against the bulge in his shorts.

He chuckled. "I didn't know they charged according to size." He reached for another fifty and wagged his finger at me. "But this is all you're getting for physical therapy. No more." He took hold of my calf and lowered my leg to the floor, then hooked one finger under the waistband of my shorts and pulled me forward. It wasn't easy for me to resist crawling onto his lap and kissing him. I thought he would just tuck the money into my shorts again, but he cupped his hand under my crotch and pushed up. "Are you sure there's enough room in there for another fifty? This feels pretty full."

"Mrs. Smith!" I pushed his hand away. It's full now, thank you very much! I snatched the fifty he was holding, pulled the other two out of my shorts and stuffed them into my pocket. "I'm such a horny stud muffin, I can't control myself around a pretty lady like you." I pressed my hands against my crotch. "You've got me so hot and bothered, I might have to take these off to cool myself down." I undid the button on my shorts. "Do you want me to take them off?" Sam smiled and nodded. As I unzipped my fly I held on to the waistband of my green Jockey briefs so I wouldn't reveal everything at once. My shorts dropped to the floor. I kicked them aside and adjusted my briefs to keep my semi-hard dick from poking through any openings.

Sam moved forward on his chair and started rubbing his knees in a restless way. He looked up at my face, then back at the bulge in my briefs. I could tell he wanted to touch me, but didn't want to move too quickly. His obvious desire was a boost to my confidence and self esteem, making it easier for me to follow through with the finale of my ridiculous impersonation.

I pulled my briefs down just enough to reveal my pubic hair, then turned to one side to give him a side view. "I wouldn't do this for any other customer, Mrs. Smith. But I'm willing to take the risk because you're sooo generous." I continued to turn while I stroked my backside with both hands. Looking back at him over my shoulder, I said, "Do you think there's room back there for that other fifty?" I lowered my underwear to expose the top of my ass.

He picked up the last of his tip money and slipped one end of the bill into the back of my briefs, then pinched my butt cheek. "What a performance!" I turned around to face him, cupping my hand over my boner. He smiled and put one hand on my ass to draw me closer. "That was almost exactly how I handled my customer today. Were you spying on me?" I grinned at his joke. He carefully tugged my briefs up to my waist. "You'd better keep those on for now."

"Why? I thought you wanted to see me naked." I was a little disappointed that he didn't take my underwear off.

"I do, and I will. But let's take our time." He pulled me forward so I was standing between his splayed legs. He kissed the center of my chest and looked up at me with his green jewel eyes. "You haven't kissed me yet today. Don't you like to kiss me anymore?" I think he knew the answer to that. I put my hands on either side of his head and leaned in to give him what he wanted. It was such a pleasure to feel his full, wet lips against mine, I had to wonder why I hadn't done this as soon as he walked in the door. Note to self . . .

We enjoyed several minutes of face time. My fingers wove their way through his thick, dark hair while his hands wandered over my back and my thighs. My erection was full and hard. It didn't bother me . . . it was a perfectly natural reaction. I just didn't want to get too close to ejaculating, so I reluctantly withdrew my tongue from his mouth. "I'm getting a little too excited, Sam. What are we gonna do about that?"

He glanced down. "Wow! Uh . . . wow. I didn't know you were so . . . gifted."

I felt my face flush. Am I? That was good news. "Thanks, but comments like that won't calm it down."

"Okay. Do you wanna take a break and clear the table? Should we get the dishes done?"

I smiled and stroked his stubbled cheek. "What is it with you and the dishes? You're so damned cute, I can't stand it."

His eyes sparkled. "Well, they need to get washed. We're supposed to do our chores before we play, right?"

"You want me to do dishes in my underwear?"

"You can do everything in your underwear as far as I'm concerned."

"Alright. Why don't you take your clothes off, too?"

"And let you treat me like a sex object?" He squeezed my buttocks with both hands. "No way! I'm not a piece of meat." He laughed at his own joke while I shook my head at him. He got up from his chair and started collecting the plates and utensils.

"You could at least take your shirt off."

"Just get your pretty ass in the kitchen where it belongs." He cracked himself up again.

I have to admit it was funny, and weirdly sexy, to hear him talk to me that way. "You're such a pig." I picked up a couple of dishes and headed for the kitchen.

He called after me. "I want that water to be hot and soapy! Don't make me repeat myself!" I could hear him snickering.

We talked about what we would do the next day, on our Sunday off. I suggested shopping for garden furniture and more comfortable furniture for the living room. He had no objection. Of course there was always work to do in the yard. Or I could lie in bed and look at his naked body for five or six hours. When we were finished with the dishes, Sam patted me on the ass and said, "Nice work, sweet cheeks." I couldn't help but laugh along with him. I could get used to being objectified by my hunky young boyfriend. He continued. "I learned a lot from your performance, Adam. Now I know how to be sexy for you." He raised my chin with one finger and kissed me on the mouth.

"I think you had that mastered about six months ago."

"There's always room for improvement."

"Aren't you feeling a little overdressed?" I started pulling the bottom of his shirt out of his shorts.

"Can you help me get out of this shirt? It's soooo tight!" He smiled and raised his arms above his head, stretching towards the ceiling.

After freeing the hem of his shirt from his shorts, I lifted it and rubbed my hand up and down the warm, soft skin over his abs, reaching up to his chest, passing over his hardened nipples. "I can't take your shirt off. You're too tall for me to reach."

He looked down at me. "Then I'll kneel before you, as an obedient lover should." He knelt on the kitchen floor. With one hand on my back, he pressed his mouth against my stomach and gave me a wet kiss, then a soft lick. "Can you get this shirt off my big, strong body now?"

Jeezus! He really was cranking the sexiness up to eleven. "I'll get it off. I'll cut it off you with a scissors if I have to." I lifted the hem to his arm pits. "Put your arms up."

He raised his arms into a double biceps pose and flexed hard. "Like this?" he said in an innocent voice.

No! But how could I object? I just stared while my prick rose up in my underwear. I wanted to get his shirt off, but I didn't want to stop looking at his biceps.

"Or like this?" He made the decision for me and pointed his arms straight up. I shook myself out of my reverie and started tugging his shirt over his thick triceps. I had to step back and pull his arms forward to get enough traction.

In his falsely innocent voice he said, "I guess my arms are too big and muscular. I should probably stop working out so much."

"No . . . you should stop wearing shirts." With enough tugging I managed to get the polo over his head and off his arms. I tossed it on the kitchen table. Sam's hair was tousled and his eyes were smoldering. I put my hands on either side of his head and kissed him urgently. I loved the scratch of his beard stubble against my lips, but I knew I shouldn't get too lost in his mouth. I have to get him naked! I pulled away and turned my back on him, then gestured for him to follow me as I headed back to the dining room.

He stood up and hurried after me. As I walked, I felt something scratchy against my skin and realized I still had a fifty dollar bill in my underwear. I reached in and pulled it out, grabbed my shorts from the dining room floor and was going to stuff the bill in my pocket with the others, but Sam said, "Oh, no you don't! You need to keep that money out because I'm gonna earn it back in the next few minutes." He pulled off his sandals and dropped them on the floor.

Holding all the bills in my hand, I tossed my shorts where they were and backed away from him with a defiant smile. "How could you possibly earn a two hundred dollar tip from a stingy bastard like me?" I really, really wanted to know. As he slowly pursued me through the dimly lit living room, I wondered if the curtains on the bay windows would keep people from seeing me running around in my underwear. This is why I have a rule against masturbating on the first floor, and now look what I'm doing!

I moved into the entrance hall where I switched on the light over the grand staircase. I continued to challenge Sam. "I've never given anyone more than a twenty dollar tip in my life."

He hung back in the shadows of the living room where he paused to unfasten his khaki shorts. "But you've never experienced my level of service." The shorts fell to the floor. He kicked them aside and stepped forward into the light, placing his hands on either side of the wide doorway, looking like the Vitruvian Man had come to life, bulked up, and put on a pair of black compression shorts. I had to lean against the front door. The proportions of Sam's body were as good or better than any I had seen in a photograph. There were tons of body builders who were more muscular, many athletes who were more streamlined, and plenty of models who had been waxed and groomed to a prettier finish. But none had the combination of Sam's height, the breadth of his shoulders, his narrow waist and hips, thick, muscular legs, and stunningly handsome face. To top it off, even though he was trying to be sexy for me, anyone could tell that he had only a limited grasp of how sexy he really was. That made him hundreds of degrees hotter.

"Do you like my underwear?" He asked this as if the tight black shorts were the thing that made him attractive.

"They look great on you, but your body is what I'm looking at. I . . . I'm . . ." I was at a loss for words.

He stepped into the entrance hall and approached me. I had my back against the door. He feigned the wide-eyed innocence I had demonstrated in my comical performance. "I hope you don't mind looking at my big muscles." He placed one hand on the door above my head and flexed the other arm in front of my face. "They must be ugly, the way they bulge out all over the place." He pumped his biceps a few times, causing a thick vein to rise across the hard ball of muscle. It was fascinating to see the way it moved under his skin.

My head seemed lighter. "Bulge . . . beautiful . . ." I felt the head of my penis pushing at the elastic of my underwear, so I pressed my hand over it. "Upstairs." I ducked under his arm and walked awkwardly to the foot of the staircase, then turned to see if he was following. He was, but he paused to flex his chest, looking down to see if his pectorals were bunching up adequately. I stumbled and landed roughly on one of the lower stairs with my legs splayed and my underwear doing a poor job of concealing my impatient erection. I used my elbows to pull myself up to a seated position on the next step.

"Are you okay?" He could see that I wasn't hurt. He planted one foot on the step where I was sitting and leaned forward in a lunge position. In a lower voice he said, "Remember . . . that cute little ass is mine, and I don't want it bruised."

Fuck! I had to clamp down on the base of my dick to keep it from going off. The way he was alternating between acting like a naive muscle boy and a dominant alpha was driving me wild. He was probably just mixing up his characters, but I couldn't have written a better script for him. "Your ass is fine. I mean, my ass." I was looking at the big lumpy bulge that was practically in my face. I could see why he wore compression shorts. That thing needs to be contained! The size of his testicles was shocking, but the whole package was very impressive. I wanted to peel him and eat him immediately.

Sam stroked his inner thigh. "Do you think my thighs look fat? They're a lot bigger than they used to be and these shorts are tighter than ever." I wasn't sure whether he was in character or if he was seriously asking my opinion.

"That's all muscle. You know that's muscle."

"Is it?" He slapped it with his palm. "Shouldn't you squeeze it to be sure?" The little smile on his face told me that he was playing the innocent again. "I'd really like your opinion."

One of my hands was busy keeping my erection under control, and the other was still grasping two hundred dollars. I opened that hand to let go of the money, but I had to shake it to dislodge the wrinkled bills from my sweaty palm. They fell onto the steps. I moved my hand over his thigh, trying to find some part of it that I could squeeze, but everything was too big and hard. All I could do was press on it and rub it, which I did gladly.

"Mmm, your smooth little hand feels so good on my big muscular thigh!" It seemed like he had memorized the lines I used earlier. "Do you like the way it feels?"

"Yeah . . . like, hard . . ." His exposed skin was lighter above the knee and nicely tanned below it, with a coating of fine, straight hair. Sam's legs were hairier than the rest of his body, just the way I like them. I stroked his calf and shin, ruffling the hair with my fingers.

He tensed and relaxed his quadriceps a few times. I thought I could hear the spandex shorts complaining about it. Or maybe they were bothered by the expansion of that other bulge. "These shorts are soooo tight!" He slid the tip of his finger under the fabric that encircled his thigh. "It would be pretty hard to tuck one of those fifty dollar bills under there . . . but you could try, if you think I deserve it." He smiled and stroked his abs with his other hand.

He deserved it. I picked up one of the bills and took the chance of letting go of my dick so I could use both hands. I pulled the spandex away from his thigh and slid the fifty under it with my other hand. My fingers felt heat and moisture and hair. I wanted to shove my hand all the way in, but my erection was throbbing again, so I withdrew, let the spandex snap back into place, and went back to squeezing my dick.

He removed his leg from the step and adjusted his shorts by tugging on them in several places, bringing the waistband down a little farther, exposing more of his thighs, and adjusting the position of his long boner. "Thanks for the tip, but . . . do you think fifty is really enough? I mean, I usually get fifty just for showing up. Maybe you need a better view of my long . . . thick . . . hard . . . legs." He stepped up a few levels so he was standing on the step below the one I was sitting on, with one foot on either side of my thighs and his hands on his hips, he towered over me like a giant. Seeing him from that angle was overwhelming. Then he moved up one more step. I had to lean back on the stairs to keep my face away from his crotch, but I could still feel the heat of it. He spread his legs a little wider. "Why don't you feel them again and decide whether fifty dollars is a big enough tip."

I was ready to shove all the money into his shorts, plus my checkbook and my retirement portfolio. I wanted to get up the stairs and into that shower before my balls ruptured. But, should I pass up the opportunity that was right in front of me? I had to let go of my dick again. I quickly ran my hands up and down his magnificent limbs, squeezing the hard calves and petting the hairy shins. Then I grabbed the other bills and started pushing them up the legs of his shorts. "Take it all! You're worth every penny. I'd give you more if I kept cash in my underwear."

He was surprised. "Why are you rushing? I was just getting started." He stepped down and knelt on the stairs, propping himself up with his hands on either side of my shoulders.

I clamped my hand on my frustrated hard-on. "I can't hold off any longer! I'm gonna blow before we get to the shower."

He looked at me with a perplexed smile. "You don't have to wait for the shower. If you're ready to blow, then blow." He looked down at what I was doing to my dick. "Let it go before you damage it." I relaxed my grip and felt the blood rush back into the head. Sam could see the tension in my face. "Lemme help you. Look what I have." He leaned on one hand, raised his other arm and flexed his biceps for me.

That did it. I shot the load that I had been holding back. It felt like it couldn't possibly be contained by my briefs, but it was. I relaxed and felt myself sliding down the steps, but Sam grabbed me under my armpits and pulled me up to a more secure position. I opened my eyes to see him pressing on the protruding hardness that was stretching the front of his shorts. "It looks like you're ready to blow, too."

He took a deep breath. "I could, but I think I can wait. Nothing makes me want to come more than watching you come, Adam. I love the face you make, and the little squeaking noise. Oh, damn . . . I have to stop thinking about it."

"I make a squeaking noise? And a face?"

"Yeah, but . . . not now . . . I'm trying to bring this down."

"But why? Just let it go, like I did." I reached out and lightly drew my fingertip along the line of hair below his navel. "I want to see the face you make when you . . ."

"Ooooooh, FUCK!" All the muscles in his torso seemed to flex at once. He cupped one hand over his large balls, threw his head back and bellowed loudly, ejaculating with enough force to push some of the semen through the fabric of his shorts. After six or seven spasms he leaned forward and put his elbows beside my shoulders. "Dammit, Adam!" He growled in my face, then gave me a deep, breathtaking kiss.

He pulled back and looked down at the semen that had seeped through his shorts. "I'm gonna have to wipe myself off on your undies so I don't get any goo on the carpet." He straddled me in a push up position, then lowered himself and started rubbing the front of his shorts against my briefs. My dick started to plump up again. When he was satisfied that he had transferred his dribbling excess to my absorbent cotton underwear, he pushed himself up and smiled at me. "That felt good. Can I do it again?"

"Yes, please." We were both grinning like mischievous school boys. I stroked the writhing muscles in his arms while he was grinding his crotch against mine. "Now I'm glad I couldn't hold off until we got upstairs. I would have missed out on this."

"I know, right? I was trying to wait because I'm messy when I shoot, but this worked out pretty well." He straightened his arms and pushed himself up. "I like doing this on the stairs, too. I like the angle of it."

"The angle is great, but my back is starting to hurt." As I sat up, he returned to a kneeling position. I fingered the hair on the back of his thigh. "Do you still want to take a shower with me?"

"Hell, yes! You don't think we're done, do you? Just because we both shot a load doesn't mean the sex is over."

"It's not? I'm not complaining, but . . . that's the way it always ends in the videos."

He casually scratched his chest. "That's not the way I wanna do things. I've had ten minute sex with guys I met in the past. If it's all about getting off, it's not very satisfying. This can go on for as long as we want it to."

I smiled. "You don't need to talk me into it."

"As far as I'm concerned it should last for hours, maybe even a whole weekend if we have the time." He stretched his shoulders.

"I think we'd be pretty raw after that."

He smirked. "Then we can take care of each other's wounds. Now where were we?" He pulled the fifty dollar bills out of his shorts and set them on one of the stairs. "I wonder if people ever think about where their money has been."

"If I thought my money had been in your shorts, I wouldn't want to spend it."

"Well, you spent this money in a hurry."

"It was a good investment."

"You haven't even received your service yet."

"I suppose I should have asked before I paid you, but what service are you providing?"

He leaned down close to my ear and whispered, "I'm gonna wash you clean, every crack and crevice. You're gonna do the same for me. And you're gonna come again." He licked my ear and it made me shiver.

"Let's go then!" I started to push myself up.

"Wait a minute! Stay there." He stood up and bent over me. "I provide transportation. Lift up your butt." As soon as I obeyed, he thrust his right arm between my legs until the crook of his elbow met my sticky crotch and his broad hand was spread against my back. Then he lifted me off the stairs with one arm and raised my body to an upright position, with my balls pressed against his flexed biceps.

My reaction was predictably articulate. "Oh, fuckety, fuck! FUCK me!"

He looked up at me with a satisfied grin. "I'm sorry, fucking is part of my premium package. Maybe you can order that some other day." He relaxed his arm briefly and flexed again.

"Fuck!" I was erect. I put my hands on top of his head.

"This is one of those things I've been picturing in my head for a while. You like it?"

"Fuckin' A!"

He started ascending the stairs, untroubled by the weight on his arm. "Did you forget all your other words?"

"Shit! Fuck!" I grabbed his rocky shoulder. The bouncing movement was stimulating.

"Y'know, Adam, I'm starting to like being this strong. I like what it does to you." We arrived at the top of the stairs. "You really like it, don't you?"

"Fuck, yeah!"

"So . . . where would you like to get off?"

I pointed to the bathroom. We had a lot of washing to do.

*****

Continued in: Part 15

Postscript: Don't worry - I will pick this up right where I left off. This part was long enough.

I really enjoy hearing from people in between posts, while I'm working on the next chapter. Don't ever think that you're bugging me, because you're not. Comments and other communications are always appreciated.

[TKnTexas55]

I am so excited that I checked one last time before bed. A new chapter. I am so excited. Yay!!

[hypnnos]

Another great chapter as always Reeza! Thx for one of the best stories I ever read.

[portamivia]

Oh man, I don't have words for this. It's just sooo good, I feel like I should fill YOUR underwear with money. Right now. Keep it coming!

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by portamivia

I feel like I should fill YOUR underwear with money. Right now.

I will be laughing about this in my sleep.

[xmrr20a]

I just checked before going to work - and there it was -- No. 14. Can't wait to get home and enjoy. Thank you!

[Mdlftr]

Reeza,
You do a great job with HUMOR!

Oh, what am I going to tell my therapist, when I call him about this installment? And my mother?!



...not really!



Mdlftr, who has a few 20s burning a hole in his pocket.....

[hardmuscl4life]

I really like the variety of characters which you add to the story to keep things moving. All the little potential subplots are really fascinating. I'm curious to know if the bigoted woman was based on anyone in particular... She was very well written

Many thanks
George

[Tibo]

Oh my, I can't believe it's a new instalment!

'Who is better suited to this task than you are, Helen?" She smiled as if she'd said something amusing.

I didn't like her.

You really got me to laugh at this part!

"I see. I'm sorry if I offended you, but one of the reasons we need a neighborhood association is to identify potential threats to the safety of our children. I was simply concerned that there might be some . . . alternative lifestyle . . ."

You really know you can get me (and Adam, apparently) to hate a person.

"Have you no sense of social politics? How do you manage to conduct business in the world?"

You got me really confused here, because someone asked me the exact same question a few weeks ago. Creepy :s

"Adam . . . you are two handsome young men, living in a Victorian house, surrounded by spectacular flower gardens. Where is the camouflage?"

"C'mon! You make it sound so obvious . . . like a stereotypical . . . uh . . . huh . . . this is really gay, isn't it?"

Haha, you really know how to incorporate the right amount of humour in the story. I actually never noticed this setting would be so stereotypical before.

"He's great, and he wants to learn the business, so I'm happy to teach him. He was lucky to snag you, too. I didn't think you'd go for a younger guy, but it seems to be agreeing with you. I know he's happy."

Ha! I knew he knew (). One the other hand I'm curious how the story with Mrs O's son (I forgot the name) will turn out. He didn't seem so ? accepting.

Postscript: Don't worry - I will pick this up right where I left off. This part was long enough.

WAT
Who do you think you are, Reeza? You can't just play with my feelings like that. Now I have to wait for the next instalment another week or two and my last memory is them two playing hot role playing games. Your cliffhangers are on the verge of turning into torture!


Overall I'm so glad I discovered your story. Every day I check for a new instalment even though I know that you can't be that quick.
The way you describe the characters with all their little ticks and traits is just so much more than I ever had hoped for. It's just so ? beliveable (apart from the supernatural elements, of course). Sometimes I really don't know if you're THAT good to get me to put myself into Adam's position or if I'm really just a bit like him. Either way, you simply manage to make this story feel right (at least for me).
I only hope you'll have enough ideas to complete all the little story lines. For now I can't spot a trend indicating you'd run out of ideas anytime soon .

PS Because of your cliffhangers I'm starting to develop a deep love-hate relationship towards you XD

[sierraca]

Alan as a stripper? Who would have thought! He sure has come a long way from the beginning of the story. And with the introduction of the b*tch, I'm sure his self-awareness/self-esteem will be tested. Great chapter, indeed.

[Bigjohn]

Thanks so much for finally getting Adam interested in working out. I think it would make the story even better if Adam were more muscular. We wouldn't want there to be too much of a disparancy between him and Sam. Great story development so far...keep it up!

[makurra]

Another masterpiece...the 14th.....Reeza, you've got a new record!!! Thanks buddy!!

[chicken legs]

I'm totally loving your story. I guess because I can relate to Adam and Sam totally reminds me of my huge handsome (but shy about his size/strength/sexiness) boyfriend.

Your descriptions are so awesome. It brings me into the story to where I can visualize it clearly and feel the emotion. I would love to see this as a independent film.

I have to say, though, you are so naughty for teasing us with those little nuggets of how strong Sam really is. It sooo hot .. Love it!!

[umlerian49]

"Like a gay accountant trucker. Eating turkey and Gruy?re with mango chutney on millet bread. In his big-ass truck!"

Adam is just the cutest character, ever. Sam ain't bad, either!

[HugestFuckGod]

YOU TEASE!!!
I hope you will put a "modern" family in the neighborhood who is excepting of gay stuff (like a mom, a dad, a teen and a younger one

[henhu]

I don't know if I want Adam to get muscular. I like the disparity in their sizes. Let Sam get bigger, taller, stronger, then both of them will be happy in each other. Give us more, Reeza . . .good job.

[Rippedstud79]

Amazing!!!!! Wow!!!!! Oh I so can't wait for the next chapter!

[nnnrg]

It seems appropriate to me that Adam gets more in shape, but he doesn't think he can get much bigger. Barring genetic disorders, it's true for a person who has a particular genetic background even if they train in ways that would make others explode. But I think he's never actually tried to get big that way.

I don't think he's ever going to approach Sam's size - Sam clearly has one of the two myostatin-related mutations, that causes normal people to experience muscle atrophy if they don't keep their protein levels high and their exercise levels high.

Incidentally, since this reminds me of atrophy, I've been reading about some rather astonishing alternate therapies that seem to do an excellent job of PREVENTING atrophy, basically involving restricting blood flow OUT of a limb, for a brief period two or three times a day. The test was done using three groups; all of them were normal, had no injuries, and voluntered to have a cast on one ankle for ten weeks, which normally causes serious atrophy. Group one did nothing special and showed the expected atrophy, group two did the isometric exercises that are usually prescribed to people in casts, and showed somewhat less atrophy, group three had the "restricted outflow" three times a day for ten to fifteen minutes. Group three showed no atrophy whatsoever. I didn't see anything about whether strength levels were tested.

Anyway, digression aside, I think Adam can get as muscular as he wants, but I don't see him wanting to get to Sam's size, and I don't think he could without taking some form of anabolic drugs.

And the Older Sarah Palin Neighbor makes me want to form an anti-neighborhood-association association.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

I don't think he's ever going to approach Sam's size - Sam clearly has one of the two myostatin-related mutations, that causes normal people to experience muscle atrophy if they don't keep their protein levels high and their exercise levels high.

I love that you spend so much time thinking about my story, but you seem determined to diagnose my characters with various disorders.

Here's how uncomplicated it is in my head: Sam has a gift, like his biblical namesake, Samson. Not only is he very strong, but if he eats a lot he gets more muscular.

Adam is a normal guy with a runner/swimmer build. He wants to be in better shape, but he's not interested in getting big. He likes being smaller than Sam, and Sam likes being bigger than Adam.

That's it.

Any questions?

[nnnrg]

Disorder? No way! Myostatin dropout is a freakin' BENEFICIAL MUTATION! Like eyebeams only sexy. And real. People with this particular mutation do get more muscular when they eat more, and yet more muscular when they work out. And they seem to be immune to many of the problems of living in a high-carb world.

Anyone would want this mutation. Unless one is starving. It's not so good in a famine.

Anyway I wish I could catch it. All my obvious mutations are stupid ones. Like a hyperactive immune system that kills off important brain neurons so I get to have a sleep disorder, or the liver that can't make an enzyme that cuts protein up into appropriate pieces so I end up with uric acid in my blood that crystallizes out in my joints. Sam's got all the luck, but then he's fictional.

[Mdlftr]

Originally Posted by Reeza

......Here's how uncomplicated it is in my head: Sam has a gift, like his biblical namesake, Samson. Not only is he very strong, but if he eats a lot he gets more muscular.

Adam is a normal guy with a runner/swimmer build. He wants to be in better shape, but he's not interested in getting big. He likes being smaller than Sam, and Sam likes being bigger than Adam.

That's it.

Any questions?

*Raises hand

- Yes, you in the back. Mdfltr, isn't it?

-*cough* uh, yeah, that's me. ..... O.k., when you said "Sam is like his biblical namesake, Samson" does that include a secret weakness, as well?

Samson's strength resided in his hair. Cut his hair and he becomes like a normal man and he was captured. Does Sam have similar secret weaknesses? Like, take away his food and he shrinks? Or something else? Or nothing?

-Oh, and one more follow-up question: So far in this story you've alluded to stories from Thomas Hardy (Tess of the D'Urbervilles) and the Bible.

Are you going to make any more literary references to gardens in particular, like to Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Rappaccini's Daughter" or to "Kew Gardens" by Virginia Wolf? [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kew_Gardens_(short_story) ]

- Well, stay tuned! That's all we have time for today, folks! Until next time!
[Theme music rises and swells]

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by Mdlftr

*Raises hand

- Yes, you in the back. Mdfltr, isn't it?

-*cough* uh, yeah, that's me. ..... O.k., when you said "Sam is like his biblical namesake, Samson" does that include a secret weakness, as well?

Samson's strength resided in his hair. Cut his hair and he becomes like a normal man and he was captured. Does Sam have similar secret weaknesses? Like, take away his food and he shrinks? Or something else? Or nothing?

-Oh, and one more follow-up question: So far in this story you've alluded to stories from Thomas Hardy (Tess of the D'Urbervilles) and the Bible.

Are you going to make any more literary references to gardens in particular, like to Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Rappaccini's Daughter" or to "Kew Gardens" by Virginia Wolf?

Excellent questions, young man.

Sam has weaknesses, certainly. None of them involve his hair. If he restricts his food or doesn't have enough food, he will lose muscle mass. He has mentioned this in the story.

There will be other literary references (so keep your Wikipedia handy) but I'm not choosing them for references to gardens. They are all about relationships and the different ways that love is manifested. In case you haven't noticed, almost all the supporting characters represent different ways of expressing or rejecting love.

Any other questions?

[Tibo]

Originally Posted by Reeza

Any other questions?

*raises hand* Ugh, when Sam grows do ? uhm ?all parts of him grow with him? *looks away sheepishly*

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by Tibo

*raises hand* Ugh, when Sam grows do … uhm …all parts of him grow with him? *looks away sheepishly*

Another good question. Let me take a wild guess and assume that you're asking about his ears.

Because ears are not muscles, they don't grow larger when his muscles grow. However, if his ears were awfully large for his body before he grew, they would be more pleasingly proportional when he became larger. He would be happy about that. It would take some pretty vigorous stimulation to make his ears even larger.

Any other questions?

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by hardmuscl4life

I really like the variety of characters which you add to the story to keep things moving. All the little potential subplots are really fascinating. I'm curious to know if the bigoted woman was based on anyone in particular... She was very well written.

Thanks for the compliment. No, she was not based on anyone in particular. Now that I think of it, none of the characters are based on any real person.

[nvb2]

Sometimes I see a new chapter and I don't read it right away because I want to give it the proper time and not be in a hurry. It's always worth waiting for!

[Tibo]

Originally Posted by Reeza

Another good question. Let me take a wild guess and assume that you're asking about his ears.

Of course I was. Thinking anything else would be absurd!

Originally Posted by Reeza

Because ears are not muscles, they don't grow larger when his muscles grow. However, if his ears were awfully large for his body before he grew, they would be more pleasingly proportional when he became larger. He would be happy about that. It would take some pretty vigorous stimulation to make his ears even larger.

Any other questions?

Soo ? bones are muscles, too? 'cause bones ain't grow at 20.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by Tibo

Soo ? bones are muscles, too? 'cause bones ain't grow at 20.

He has a gift! Who are you to question God?

I bet nnnrg can come up with an explanation for this. Let's just wait for it . . .

[JKT]

I am a bit lost on Sams current height weight ect. No mention or description other than he appears bigger.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by JKT

I am a bit lost on Sams current height weight ect. No mention or description other than he appears bigger.

He is currently between 6 foot 4 and 6 foot 5. That's the only measurement I'm providing. The rest is up to each reader to imagine.

[chocomus]

Fuck, this one one of the hottest chapters ever!!!!! Thanks for sharing ^_^

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by Tibo

Soo ? bones are muscles, too? 'cause bones ain't grow at 20.

nnnrg sent his response to this in a private message, which I have pasted here:


"Growing longer? Well, there's two ways. One way involves intensive medical intervention, as happened with a friend of mine who had one leg a full half-inch shorter than the other. They broke the bone surgically, installing a brace that kept the halves separate so that it could heal longer.

Otherwise? It depends on genetics, nutrition, activity, sleep, and some environmental factors. So, more than you ever wanted to know about bones and how they grow:

1) when born a child has very few actual complete bones, instead having cartilage where the bones are. Over the course of time, the cartilage is gradually replaced through a calcium/phosphorus ionization process that turns it into a solid mass, but the body still changes its shape by removing material from the inside and adding it on the outside, which is how bones get larger in diameter and thicker, but don't become solid.

Long bones have "growth plates" which are areas still composed primarily of cartilage.
Yes, they are subject to breaking more easily than the bone part. Many breaks are near or in the growth plate area. It can recover to an extent from such an injury.

The cartilage in the growth plate grows more cells from the middle, and the bone at either end gets more solid, but the bone at the ends is usually somewhat "spongier" than at the middle and remains so for some time. Cartilage grows in response to a fairly complex set of stimuli that includes human growth hormone (HGH) and may continue to grow, until the "end of puberty".

The "end of puberty" seems to me to be an arbitrary designation, but basically means sex hormones which spiked at the beginning of puberty and swung around wildly, have settled into a steady state before they start to decline again slowly, a few years later...

Anyway, around the end of puberty, usually, the growth plates "seal" up, partly in response to a decline in HGH, and partly in response to how heavy the loads are on the bones - if the cartilage layer grows more slowly than the bone solidifies, and the bone solidifies because of heavy lifting and not much stretching, then yeah, the limbs end up shorter.

Your description of Sam's youth has him working on a farm, which means, LOTS of work that builds muscle, but it also requires moving around a lot. Swinging bales of hay stretches the arms, walking or riding a horse stretches the legs, and so forth. Shoveling manure does much the same thing - and yes, you do end up shoveling a lot of shit around on a farm. :P

So, bone growth continues in response to loading throughout life. Growth plates, though, tend to close up between age 18 and 25. It depends on HGH levels and ossification rates, and like most statistical models, there seems to be a 'bell curve" shape involved, although only half of one. The tiny number of people still growing taller after 25 are people who have never 'finished' puberty, or have hormonal glitches.

So, in conclusion, when a person's growth plates did not close off, then a late growth spurt CAN Happen. I know a few people who had their last growth spurts at around that age, and have heard of but not met one who had his last two inches of growth at 25.

If you're thinking that Sam will grow taller, he might, but probably not for long... he's begun doing heavy weights, which can cause ossification to happen faster than cartilage growth. On the other hand, he never TRIED to get bigger, and he's likely been doing stretches, and the stress of weight training can cause spikes in HGH in healthy well nourished people. So if he's got high HGH levels at the moment, he may well start feeling extreme growing pains again for a while.

Note also: inactivity tends to make you shorter - you have to stretch the cartilage somewhat in order for it to want to grow. (That includes the ribcage - if you don't do the things to stretch the cartilage before it stops growing, you end up with a smaller chest than you could have had.)

I can't see Adam growing taller. If you had pointed out that he was still growing by very small increments, say a quarter-inch a month, then it might make sense, but you've made his situation clearly one of him being a mostly normal guy physically.

So in summary: 1) how tall you get is a combination of genetics, nutrition, sleep, and the right kinds of exercise and activity. 2) how wide your shoulders are is also affected by this because that's also affected by bone length. 3) It's possible to keep growing until age 25, but statistically you're "done" by 20, normally. 4) in some cases, if you never stop growing, there may be a hormonal or genetic cause, but the people who have this are usually people like Robert Ludlow, who have a form of giantism."


This was all nnnrg could come up with off the top of his head. (Slacker!) Can you believe this guy? Whenever I worry that my characters might not be realistic, I think of nnnrg and say, "If nnnrg exists, then my characters could exist."

Sooo . . . Tibo. Dude! Any more impertinent questions?

[henhu]

You are so right!

[nnnrg]

(BLUSH)

Thanks, but as with many people here, I don't think I'm all that remarkable, physically anyway (alas, and yeah, I regularly chastise myself so I don't become a total egomaniac). Confirming the information here took about ten minutes on Google. But I knew what I was looking for.

[Tibo]

Originally Posted by Reeza

nnnrg sent his response to this in a private message, which I have pasted here:


"Growing longer? Well, there's two ways. [ … very insightful information …] So in summary: 1) how tall you get is a combination of genetics, nutrition, sleep, and the right kinds of exercise and activity. 2) how wide your shoulders are is also affected by this because that's also affected by bone length. 3) It's possible to keep growing until age 25, but statistically you're "done" by 20, normally. 4) in some cases, if you never stop growing, there may be a hormonal or genetic cause, but the people who have this are usually people like Robert Ludlow, who have a form of giantism."

Wow, so much information. Thanks nnnrg!

This was all nnnrg could come up with off the top of his head. (Slacker!) Can you believe this guy? Whenever I worry that my characters might not be realistic, I think of nnnrg and say, "If nnnrg exists, then my characters could exist."

Sooo . . . Tibo. Dude! Any more impertinent questions?

Very well, you win this round. But wait till the next instalment … I will return *poof*

[worshipper]

Thanks for your lovely story. You put so much work into the character development. One suggestion, might it not be time for a real challenge? Perhaps a chapter where Sam shows off his strength to test his limits (everyone has a limit). Better still, an opponent that is not so easy for him to beat.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by worshipper

Thanks for your lovely story. You put so much work into the character development. One suggestion, might it not be time for a real challenge? Perhaps a chapter where Sam shows off his strength to test his limits (everyone has a limit). Better still, an opponent that is not so easy for him to beat.

Hmm. Interesting suggestion, but Sam's not much of a fighter, and he has no interest in proving anything, unlike the characters in other stories. I enjoy those kinds of stories, but I wanted Sam to be different in that way. The limits that will be tested won't be physical, but he will demonstrate his strength for Adam, and there will be more dramatic growth. It must be frustrating to keep waiting for it.

I never thought this story would turn out to be so long, but now that I've come this far, I have to let it play out the way I conceived it. The growth and the strength will always be secondary to the relationship. I'm afraid this will ultimately disappoint some readers, but I intended this to be different from anything else I've read. When people tell me that this is not like any other story on this forum, I feel like I'm accomplishing what I set out to do.

Thanks for your kind words and your investment in the story. I hope you will continue to read it.

[marmel]

By far one of the best stories ever...thanks for the time and effort to craft such a wonderful story. My desire would be to see Sam demonstrate his strength in some way involving protecting Adam from some kind of danger/attack. Love the way you are delicately pushing the plot line along!